IchixHime Smut
by CarolineCatharsis
Summary: Some smutty writings of my favorite Bleach couple. First one is kind of angsty the rest will probably just be one-shots, thank you for reading! I don't own Bleach.  btw, super original title, huh?
1. Chapter 1

-So… some IchiHime smut. This first one has a bit of plot, kind of angsty. The rest in this series will more than likely just be smutty one-shots. Hope you enjoy. –

This takes place circa 425ish, with subtle changes(weather, setting, etc.) a tad bit angsty, hope you enjoy~ 

Since the return from Hueco Mundo, most events in Karakura town have been pretty calm, pretty normal. That is, if one considers the occasional ear splitting howl of hollows in the dead of night to be "normal" but thanks to Uryu for, usually, dealing with them fairly quickly.

However, all has not been exactly as it was before. For instance, Ichigo now found himself with a strikingly beautiful girlfriend; Orihime Inoue was his princes. Although their relationship was more on the down-low, Ichigo didn't feel like suffering through Keigo's constant heart-broken tears at his "betrayal of their friendship" and "taking of the hottest girl in school". And that isn't even to mention the fear of Tatsuki's wrath –internal shiver-. But despite all the minor setbacks of their relationship, he was happier than he'd ever been. Orihime was everything he could want, beautiful, caring, giving, even if sometimes it seemed as if she wasn't all there…  
>Since she had returned sometimes she would become… a bit distant. Which isn't a bad thing. Going through a traumatic experience like, being forcefully separated from your friends in an attempt to save their lives, only to have to live in a seemingly-dead world with a bunch of incredibly strong heartless beings (most of which would prefer you dead, but are obligated to keep you alive due to orders from the maybe mentally disturbed captain), could be a bit overwhelming. So it was alright if she was distant at times… right?<p>

Well, whatever. Ichigo tried to physically shake the malicious thoughts from his mind. He was going to visit this beautiful girlfriend of his, no need to have such perturbing thoughts now. He trudged through the snow, hands shielded from the cold in his pockets and face partially buried in the high collar of his black jacket. He was a shadow against the snow, with the exception of the violent shock of his orange hair sticking out in defiant spikes.

He approached her apartment complex, cars lazily drove on the sludge choked roads behind him, a dog barked in the cold somewhere, all background noise to the slight giddy eagerness he felt at visiting Orihime. He scowled, what was he being so stupid for? They had been going out for a couple months now, and its not like this was the first time he had ever gone to her apartment. Hell! He was just here the other day…

Reaching out, he rapt on her door. A biting wind whipped by, making him shudder farther into his jacket, wishing he had earmuffs, or that those fuzzy hats didn't look so stupid on him…

Orihime opened the door, and already he could tell she wasn't there. She reached out and pulled him in, the motion was painfully mechanic, and she did not even look at him. Once inside he began taking off his shoes as she disappeared into the kitchen. There he stood, conflicted with the desire to follow her, wanting to console her but not knowing how, and also wanting to give her some space… well she had invited him in right? That meant she didn't particularly want space… His thoughts were interrupted by her return, in her hands were two steaming mugs. She handed one to him and went over to the couch. He followed, looking at the hot chocolate without an appetite.

They watched some bizarre documentary on the breeding of sea horses, a rather surreal thing to watch with his currently zombie-state girlfriend. Mating sea horses don't really make for good sexual foreplay, his subconscious traitorously whispered. Shocked, he berated himself for even considering such a thing. Plus, Orihime wasn't in the mood for anything like that, he took a furtive glance at her. Her grey eyes stared blankly at the television screen. Ichigo raked his hand through his hair with an exasperated sigh closing his eyes:_ This is all my fault. _His jaw tightened _if only I had been stronger, strong enough to have protected her from them, she wouldn't be like this…_ His eyes stared blankly at the floor. A dark memory played in his mind, the teal-tear stained face of a dying espada. Ulquiorra's out stretched hand disintegrating as Orihime desperately tried to grab it. The crushing feeling of her remorse, her sadness.,, How could he let his princes break like that?

His angry thoughts stopped as he felt a shifting on the couch, his mind slowly returned to the present as he felt the press of velvet lips against his own. Orihime sat next to him, her lips delicately pressed over his. His desire flared, but this wasn't a fierce kiss. No, this wasn't their usual passion filled kisses that left him hot and frustrated beyond belief, but he wouldn't push her. No matter how horny he got, he would never force Orihime. She set the pace, and right now, he wasn't sure what that pace was.

Her lips were incredibly soft and tasted sweet, but her kiss felt odd. Mechanic and tense, but with a slight tentative curiousness to it. This confused Ichigo, he felt as if Orihime was in a very delicate position right now her sanity balancing on a thread. He looked over her face, her eyes were closed and she was silhouetted in the white light reflected from the snow. It made her look ethereal, intangible, like she was more spirit than physical. It scared him, but sometimes he wondered, sometimes his conscious betrayed him and whispered doubts to him; _is she really here, did he really save her? Or had he just been so fiercely desperate to save her that he had created this delirious f_antasy_ that was her?_ Although he doubted his ability to create a fantasy as perfect as she was. But sometimes she seemed so distant that it was hard to believe she was real.,,

She pulled back from him, her head held downwards so that her shadowed eyes were shielded from him.

"Orihime?" His voice was quiet, gentle and deep as it broke the silence.

She looked up at him, grey eyes clouded with such unfathomable emotion. Looking at her eyes felt like he was being punched through the chest by Ulquiorra again. Ulquiorra…  
>Orihime broke eye contact with him, but quickly grasped his hand and pulled him from the couch with her. Surprised he let her tow him farther into her apartment.<p>

Apprehension settled in his gut as she pulled him in to her bathroom. Blush coloring his cheeks, she rushed over and turned on the hot water. He stood there dumb founded, mouth gaping and closing like a fish_, _questions he wanted to ask her stuck in his dry throat: _are you sure this is a good time? Orihime, I love you, but maybe we should think about this… IN THE SHOWER! _

He closed his mouth worry knitting his brows together as he saw her pull her shirt over her head. The little room was hot, steam rising from the shower and encasing her ivory body in it's misty grasp. She looked intangible again and fear gnawed at the inside of his cheek. She turned to look at him, emerging from the mist to look up into his eyes. Relief flooded his senses as he saw she was Orihime again, her grey eyes looking at him, actually seeing him.  
>"Orihime…" His voice sounded gruff, he held onto the soft part of her upper arms and kissed her. She moaned against his mouth, body shaking with need. She pulled back from him too soon, holding her lips just an inch from his, she whispered, "Please Ichigo…"<p>

His eyes were closed, and he could taste her words more than hear them, "Anything, Orihime. Forever." He wanted her, his desire for her flared in his chest and spread in the form of liquid fire in his veins, lower…

But as she looked him in the eyes he could tell that she needed more than sex. She was asking for something more. Her hands slid under his shirt and began lifting it. Unsure he helped her to take off his clothes, then she lead him into the shower, her clothes removed too.

The smoldering water hit his skin and began sliding down the contoured planes of his body. He turned towards Orihime surprised to see her eyes shut. They stood like that under the stream of the hot water. Her hair effectively turning shades darker as it was soaked with water. He loved her hair, it was so long a beautiful. The amber locks containing so many indescribable colors and shades it should be a spectrum of it's own. The first time that they had…. Slept together, the following morning Ichigo had spent the entire dawn just watching all the colors in her hair come to life as the sun rose. It was one of the most beautiful aspects of his perfect girlfriend. She was his goddess, his broken goddess… His jaw tightened with the through, hands clenching into fists.

As if she could feel his tension, Orihime reached out to him. Her hands were a bit klutzy and awkward seeing as her eyes were still shut. Lately, emptiness has been filling her heart. She loved Ichigo, she truly, and indescribably loved him with every fiber of her being, but the desperate eyes of an otherwise stoic espada haunts her. He is there when she closes her eyes at night, Ulquirra, in his last attempt at understanding that there was more to life than just obeying, that he could feel, as he stood, slowly fading into oblivion with his hand outstretched… finally asking for someone's help, asking for her to save him.  
>But she had failed him. And that tore her to shreds.<p>

She was stuck, forever reliving that moment when she had reached for his intangible hand and that look of defeat on his face. It was eating her alive, like the gnats that got caught in spider's silk, slowly having their life taken from them…

Tired, so very, very tired. Darkness so absolute threatened to encompass her, drag her down into its bottomless abyss and never let her see the day again, right now she needed something real, she needed something tangible to hold on to. Or she would fade away forever…

She touched Ichigo's face, touch, right now that would be her ultimate sense. She could feel the water pounding at her back, it soaked her hair and slid down her curvy body, warming her frigid form. She reached behind her, hands outstretched, searching for something. Finding the object they desired Orihime lifted Ichigo's shampoo bottle into her hand and squeezed some out. Closing the cap she set the bottle down and turned back towards him, she maneuvered him so that his spikey hair wilted under the pounding of the water and began to lather the shampoo into his scalp…

Ichigo was still confused as he watched Orihime get shampoo in her hands. He was even more surprised when she pushed him under the water and started to wash his hair for him. He had to bend awkwardly for her to reach and he wondered if she realized she had the wrong shampoo… Oh well, he could suffer smelling like strawberries for a little while. Plus the way she was massaging his scalp was worth it. He closed his eyes feeling them roll in their sockets with pleasure.

Orihime would never tell him, but Ichigo was purring. Literally, the nearly indecipherable hum echoed from low in his throat and reverberated to her ears from the bath wall. When his hair was clean Orihime paused to gather up some body wash in her hands. She nearly punched him in the face when she reached up to start washing him and he chuckled moving her hands to his chest. Biting her lip Orhime felt, rather than saw Ichigo. She knew how handsome the man before her was, but just feeling him was an extremely sensual experience. This is what she needed, this is what she craved for, she needed to feel Ichigo on this intimate level to ground herself, to tell her that she was back from that horrid place, and that…. Ulquiorra was gone, she hadn't been able to save him.

Tears squeezed from beneath her eye lids, but they continued on their path undetectable in the streams of water that poured over her head. Even so… somehow he knew they were there, he brushed a lock of water soaked hair from her face and she wondered if he would kiss her. Instinct told her that he wanted to. But he didn't, instead he gave her the space he knew she needed right now. Her hands closed to fists on his chest and she closed in on herself, a quiet sob escaped her lips and she could feel him shift. He was saddened by her sadness. _Thats right Orihime… Your emotions do not just effect you, they effect those around you. Poor Ichigo-kun has to suffer too, all because you continuously beat yourself up about this. It's time to put this behind you._

Eyes still shut, Orihime began to wash Ichigo, but it was more than that, this was her mourning for a life that she couldn't save, this was her grounding herself. She felt all his muscles tensing as her soft hands glided over them, working that tension from his shoulders. _Ichigo is always tense_, she realized, _is it because he blames himself for my sadness? I don't want Ichigo to feel tense anymore. He is so strong and capable. To think such an amazing man cares for me- I must treat him better. _

Ichigo could feel her hands working his muscles, massaging the pent up feeling from him, he closed his eyes as his healer worked all the internal blame from him. She relaxed him, cleansed the sadness from his body with just her touch. He was surprised with the gentle strength of her hands, they felt as if they were reaching beneath his skin, into his heart and plucking all the darkness from it. His regrets dissolved, his sadness disintegrated, his self-doubts demolished, all by her touch. She razed him, and remade him.

She was beauty incarnate.

She washed him, and then herself. Cleaning from herself the taint that had begun to settler within her soul and bringing back her purity.

When he finally reached over and turned off the shower is when Orihime finally opened her eyes to him. He immediately playfully tackled her with a white fluffy towel, wrapping her up and they laughed together. It was wonderful to see her happy Ichigo, and it was wonderful for him to see her looking like herself again. He kissed her and she sighed in content

They made their way to her room, only wrapped in towels, hair still dripping from their shower they cuddled on her bed. She marveled at her perfect boyfriend, Ichigo was all she could ever ask for, and more. Sitting with backs against the wall, she sat in his arms, her lips pressed to his. Shifting, she wanted to be closer, shivering as the towel fell away from her and the cold air hit her. He pulled back to marvel at her dimly lit ivory skin. It looked the snow outside, bathed in the light of the full moon. He was transfixed as a droplet of water fell from her hair and slid between the valley of her bountiful breasts. Carnal desire flared in him at the arousing sight and he rushed to catch the droplet, earning a giggle from his Princess.

"Ah, Ichigo…" Came her pleasured sigh as he nipped at her pert nipple. She lay on her back now, her hair cascading around her, the ends still darkened from the water, but it was dry in the middle so that she looked like a star. Sometimes she was so beautiful it hurt him physically.

Like right now, but right now he just hurt in a certain area, but that was normal for him around Orihime. He continued attacking her nipple, and eventually moved down over her sensually dimpled stomach and to between her thighs. However, she was going to be difficult tonight, or so told him her posture as she swiftly closed her thighs together, even as he was moving down there. He gave her a warning look, but she did look so sexy, laying there beneath him, her thighs squeezed together with her right hand pressed in between them, not quite touching herself, her back was arched and somehow she had managed to twist her hips to the side, making it even more difficult for him. She looked at him with those bright grey eyes and bit her bottom lip in anticipation. _Damn, we are going to have fun tonight…._

The End :D


	2. The Temptress

I'm supposed to be writing an editorial right now… Instead, I get this… *sigh*~

Lights flickered like her titillating pulse. A throng of bodies writhed around her, enticing her to move with the electric throb of the bass blasting from the immense speakers. The pseudo congregation of club go-ers emanated a sultry aura making her skin feel slightly damp and her head spin with the heaviness of the air…

This was her Arcadia.

Shivering with barely restrained excitement she dove farther into the throng, letting the beat burry its self beneath her skin. She could feel it reverberating in her heart, clawing from within, like a beast, like a nightmare. Her own Cimmerian Shade bursting free, swallowing her and releasing nothing but an animalistic carnal bliss that would otherwise be perfectly concealed by her innocent grey eyes and shy demeanor. But here, she could be herself. Here, obstructed behind the mass of strangers, she could let her inner desires surge forward.

This was her murky state of Nirvana.

With dark half-lidded eyes, glistening ruby-lips, and a figure worthy of titling her Aphrodite she began to dance with the crowd. Her hands splayed through the air as if she were caressing the wind as she twisted her body in erotic lithe movements. The dance only made more stimulating by the tight dress that she wore: blood red in color, accented like bruising rose blossoms by a thin sparkling veil of black mesh, pulled taunt against her generous bosom and flaring at the hips to cascade down to her thin ankles, feet heightened by a pair of black strappy heels that glimmered like newly formed obsidian . A slit up the front side occasionally allowing for a shy peek at a silky porcelain leg, one of her arms was encased in a tight partial sleeve ending just below the elbow, the adjacent arm and shoulder laid bare for hungry eyes, a single silver heart bracelet decorating her delicate wrist. The best part, however, was her hair. Luscious amber-tinted locks flowed down her back in an ambrosial manner. The color was such that it was a labyrinthine to behold, mixed variations of chestnut, cherry, gold, caramel, and copper allowed one to lose their self just looking at it.

She was a bitter-sweet goddess incarnate.

An enticing smile adorned her pretty lips, eyes daring anyone to try to get close as she moved. It seemed as if the people danced less to the music and more towards the sway of her hips and fluid-like movements of her arms. It was hot in the club, sweat slicked bodies occasionally brushed against her, making her bite her lip in wanton desire, she batted thick eyelashes at any poor unfortunate soul who made eye contact (they promptly needed removal from the floor due to the explosive nose bleeds, lol).

A quiet sigh whispered past her lips as the song slowed to a crawl, the beat never really stopping. Still, she lowered her arms and stopped her gyrating movements. Suddenly she felt eyes on her, lifting her chin she widened her eyes from the feral slits they had become during her dance and she saw him.

Raging storm clouds met melted dark chocolate.

She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, chewing on it as panic slowly clawed it's lethal way into her chest. _What is __**he**__ doing here!_ The **he** in question had been the object of her fantasies for a long, long time. Though she'd never, ever, tell anyone about her lust. She kept those dark secrets to herself, buried deeply under the layer of the flamboyant-ditzy princes. But under that laid…

_How long has __**he**__ been watching me?_

It felt like an eternity that she stood there, entrapped by his gaze. She wanted to scream, she wanted to melt, she wanted to disappear, anything, just… his gaze was too much.

He had seen her, she knew it.

He had seen the **Temptress.**

The bass began to pick up again as a new song sprung to life. Though the bodies around her began to move once again, puppets on invisible thread, she couldn't move with his eyes on her. But even as she stood there still, the trance was slowly being broken as more and more bodies began to move between them. Soon, she could barely see the shock of orange that was his hair, and as that disappeared his hold on her did too.

She gasped, her heart pounding in her chest, tears making her eyes glitter. The temptress was gone now, hidden behind her shattering heart, _? What. Am. I. Going. To. Do._ She clutched at her head helplessly, _ its no use, he has seen me, Kur- no, he probably hates me now… I have to get out of here!_

She turned to flee from the spot, pushing past the bodies that were once her cover, now they were her maze, and somewhere there was her pursuer.

He stood transfixed to the spot, if his brain had had enough blood to allow the muscles in his jaw drop he was sure it would be on the floor this instant. _**She **__was here? __**She **__went clubbing? _He tried to shake his head but couldn't even remove his eyes from the sight before him. Echoing softly in his mind he could hear his hollow's chuckle, the albino bastard was delighted at seeing _**her**_ and that made his blood boil, although it was already pretty steamy from watching _**her **_moving.

Not knowing how long he had been staring, yet powerless to stop, he heard the beat of the music slow, the tempo dropping considerately. _**She**_ stood there, face tilted towards the ground, eyes nearly closed, arms slowly descending. Hips still gently swaying with the beat made him want to growl, _Damn, I had no idea I could feel this way, I… I really want to do things to her. _He thought, _I really want to do __**bad**__ things with __**her**__. _He realized with a start, not too surprised to hear the reverberating watery laugh, he grit his teeth and his attention snapped forward as _**she**_ looked at him.

He could see the transition in her eyes, the wildness receding as recognition took place. He even watched them as they began to glitter with tears, turning from storm clouds to liquid silver…then it was broken.

The music was suddenly back up to tempo and he couldn't see her. He started forward, not caring, needing nothing more but to find her. He wanted her. He needed her.

She headed towards the restrooms. The knuckle of her pointer finger in between her teeth, she bit hard focusing on that tangible pain, rather than on that of her breaking heart. She couldn't control that pain, but this, she teethed harder, this she could control. Breaking from the barrier of people she was on the home stretch now, the bathroom just a few paces away. Arms extended she fled forward, but she didn't make it.

She would never make it.

Because _**he**_ had caught her.

-Would you all like a part II?-


End file.
